


One Way Or Another

by Resistance



Series: Boston Bruins [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Boston Bruins, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:48:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resistance/pseuds/Resistance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brad is trying to deal with the trade. Somehow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Way Or Another

**Author's Note:**

> On July 5, 2013, Tyler was traded to the Dallas Stars.

Brad wasn’t sure if he blamed him or not, but he was mad all the same.

He sat on the bed and watched Tyler walk around the room aimlessly. He wasn’t packing (he had plenty of time for that later) he was just walking around. Touching things and putting them back. Stepping over Marshall, who didn’t understand why all that random movement didn’t include playing with him. Harvey sat in the corner, far enough away that he wouldn’t get stepped on. He was smart enough to know Tyler wasn’t watching or thinking about what he was doing. Marshall was not that smart and barked for attention that he did not receive.  

The problem was that Brad couldn’t show he was mad. Tyler was in some kind of shock and it wouldn’t be fair to add the fact that he was thinking this was all his own fault on top of that. The first time the trade rumors started this off season, they got worried. It was going to happen for sure, everyone said, and all the way out to Calgary. And then Tyler got the call about needing to shape his act up. And he agreed to do anything Coach said, because he wanted to stay. They wanted to stay together. Brad remembered talking about what changes they’d make next season, so they wouldn’t get this scare again. They’d agreed to tone it down for Tyler’s sake. One way or another they were going to make it work.

But that was pointless now. He could be as wild as he wanted to be because he’d be doing that in Dallas and with God knows who. And Brad suddenly couldn’t imagine going out and parting in Boston anymore. The idea made him sick to his stomach. Brad couldn’t imagine doing anything in Boston anymore. If they _had_ to trade him—and if he was going to be honest, he knew deep down that they had to trade him—why couldn’t they have traded both of them together? They could have made this new start together. Why did they have to do this to them? It wasn’t fair.

His thoughts drifted to Nathan and he felt himself getting mad because he chose to go through what they were going through now. Nathan _picked_ to do this to himself and Milan. And they had kids to boot. But Brad couldn’t let himself think about them right now, he had to focus on Tyler. He hadn’t known what to say when he told him. He had just stared, the word ‘Dallas’ bouncing around his head. That was far. That was Western Conference far. That was going to be alone with no one to watch out for him far. (He wondered who Tyler would call to pick them-- _him_ up when he was even too drunk to be seen in a cab now that Z was out of range.)

Tyler had sat next to him and waited for him to say something. A lot of opening lines bounced through his head (he rejected ‘What’d we get for you?’ though he did wonder that) and he rubbed a hand over his face before he replied, “We’ll  make it work.”

Tyler smiled. An actual smile that wasn’t press and wasn’t drunken. His real smiles knocked Brad right off his feet, but they weren’t all that common, he was more of a smirker. “Yeah?” His tone was painfully hopeful.

“Yeah. Other guys do, right? Krej, Bergy, they do this. So can we.” Brad tried to sound as convincing because if Tyler believed him, he could believe himself. He willed himself not to think about how Tyler got when he was drunk (and how often he was drunk), how he would be all over anyone, male or female, that showed him attention when he got like that. He was just thinking about how they would make it and everything would be fine.

And then the phone rang. Though ‘rang’ is really not a good word for what Tyler’s phone does when someone calls. Brad had had Wiz Khalifa’s ‘Black and Yellow’ as his ringtone for years now, but Tyler changed his on a whim. Most of the time when Tyler’s phone went off, Brad assumed it was the iHome alarm, not his phone. This time he didn’t even know the song and if he had, he wouldn’t have liked it. The look he gave Tyler conveyed that.

Tyler smirked a little, “Mike’s not a bad guy.” And he answered the phone, without bothering to check the number. After all, The Call had already come, it couldn’t get worse. “Hey?”

Brad watched Tyler’s smirk slowly fade into an emotionless press fake-smile. He mouthed ‘who is it’ but Tyler wasn’t looking at him. Besides he was too busy saying things like “Uh huh” and “Yeah, great” and “I’m looking forward to it” and not meaning a word of it. Brad sat on the edge of the bed and watched him. And then he watched him hang up and watched him walk aimlessly around the room after he’d tossed his phone aside.

Brad snapped his fingers and gestured Marshall over to him. Petting the dog’s short fur was something to occupy him and it would keep him happy since Tyler was ignoring him. But Marshall was only to be placated for a few minutes before he spotted a discarded ball under the nightstand and all but begged Brad to play fetch with him. Brad threw the ball down the hallway, trying to angle it in a way that he’d have to chase it for a while. Marshall barked a few times at Harvey, trying to get him to chase the tennis ball with him. Harvey huffed once but didn’t move. Marshall was far too used to that and took off after his prey on his own without a worry. Brad found himself envying the dog.

“That was Jamie Benn.” Tyler said, pausing in his pacing to face Brad. “My new linemate.”

“Oh.” Brad wished he’d kept that in the moment he said it.

Tyler’s face fell even further, “I’m not happy about it. I just—“

Brad was on his feet before Tyler could finish the sentence, “I _know_. I just hate it. Get it? But we’re gonna make it work. Even if your new linemates are already trying to get with you.”

Tyler smiled a little, it was a real smile, if small. “I love you.” Sober, he didn’t say that often (usually it was after they’d won something and it was whispered in his ear), but Brad loved hearing it. He smiled back, but before he could respond, Tyler kissed him. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, it wasn’t a prelude to sex, it was reassuring. He both wanted to reassure Brad and be reassured. Brad was happy to comply.

Yes, they would make it. One way or another.


End file.
